In the Middle of Chaos
by Sacrificial Tao
Summary: Harry Potter is kidnapped from the Hogwarts grounds and two weeks later news comes of his demise. Dumbledore, in an effort to prepare his students for the possibility of Voldemort's return, hires another teacher. The new teacher encourages the students of Hogwarts to work together, and to put aside their differences. slash/yaoi in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - this story takes place during the Goblet of Fire, about a week after the first task.**

**Beta'd by ShearViscosity**

* * *

Potions, Harry decided once more, was a royal waste of his time. There was just no point to the ruthless degradation he faced, the ritualized humiliation from both Snape and Malfoy. Oh, and the endless sabotage and substandard marking of his work was a pain too. He worked damn hard on his essays and then Snape would mock him. Was that really what teachers were supposed to do, mock their students?

When he had entered the school as a frightened first year, Potions was one of the subjects he was looking forward to the most. He had believed that he would be able to apply knowledge from his chemistry classes in his primary school, but he was wrong, very wrong indeed.

Snape continued to drone on and on about how a single slip of a stirring rod could change the entire composition of a Potion or something. Honestly, did it really matter that much?

According to Snape it did.

Would it really matter if he trembled slightly when stirring?

_Then again_, he thought, _Neville's potions never turn out that well..._

Eventually they set to work and Harry began preparing his ingredients. From where he was sitting, he found it difficult to read the blackboard—maybe it was time to consult someone about new glasses. On top of his questionable eyesight, Snape's handwriting was spikey and cramped. Harry seethed inwardly; this man had the gall to insult Harry's handwriting, when his own wasn't much better.

Half an hour later Harry realised there was something seriously wrong with his Potion. It wasn't the same colour as Hermione's—it was something on the other end of the spectrum. While her's was a syrupy, scarlet colour, his was a slightly ill-looking green. Green. How on earth did he do that? Even Neville's potion was only orange. _Green. _Judging by the prominent leer on Snape's face he was in trouble.

"Explain why your potion is green, Potter," he instructed, loud enough for the entire class to hear.

Of course, Harry had no answer. He stared at the Potion's Master hoping he would be given the answer.

"Can anyone else explain why Potter's potion is green?" Snape asked, with particular direction at the Slytherin half of the class.

Seriously, why did McGonagall make them take lessons with the Slytherins? It was just asking for trouble in Harry's opinion. He glared at Snape, wishing the man would just stop talking.

Credit where credit is due though, Snape nodded at Hermione.

"I would guess he's been stirring counter-clockwise instead of clockwise," she said, smiling nervously at Harry.

"You guessed correctly," Snape replied, his tone acerbic. "If you continue with this atrocity, your cauldron will begin spewing highly toxic fumes. I suggest you turn out the flame and get out of my classroom."

Sensing now was not the time to argue, Harry did as he was told.

Once out of the lesson he strolled outside, walking casually toward the lake.

Suddenly, something heavy landed on his back, sending him sprawling to the ground. His arms were twisted, tied in an excruciating manner behind his back.

He wondered idly if this was a Death Eater's doing. A hand gripped his hair tightly, and yanked him upwards. A scream tore at his throat; it was one of the most painful things he had experienced.

A jagged voice hissed in his ear, it was not a language he recognised. Sensing he was being told to be quiet, he clamped his mouth shut. A slender set of arms wrapped around his torso, in a vicelike embrace. The person holding him growled something, again Harry didn't have a clue what was being said. The ground vanished beneath him, strong wing-beats buffeting the frigid November air.

* * *

Severus stepped out of his classroom, only half expecting Potter to be standing outside. He was of course, not present. Unconcernedly, he went to dinner and took his usual seat.

As per usual, he scowled in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

Potter wasn't there.

Severus definitely wasn't the only one to notice, a few other members of staff had also noted the boy's absence.

* * *

It was now two weeks after the disappearance of Harry Potter. The morning following the brat's mysterious departure, Headmaster Dumbledore had gone to the Ministry of Magic, asking for aid. There was a horrific backlash of terror, and the standard of the students' work had begun to slip.

Black had been called into the school; he listened in shocked disbelief as the Headmaster explained the dire circumstances. As soon as Albus mentioned Severus's very slight involvement, Black had flown into a rage, cursing every aspect of Severus's life. Since that day, Severus and Black had spent many hours in Dumbledore's office. Once the Aurors had arrived, Severus –along with every other member of staff- was questioned extensively.

That evening, he and Black were sitting in Dumbledore's office, a civil yet terse silence blanketed the room.

Without warning, the door swung open, and Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped in, accompanied by a tall, slender person. The slender one was of high gender ambiguity, but Severus was certain it was a man. Shacklebolt had his wand pressed against the newcomer's throat, his hands were bound behind his back.

"Albus, I caught this _thing _and two others trying to enter the grounds," Shacklebolt informed the room. The newcomer's eyes darted around the room, he seemed very ill at ease with the situation.

_Unsurprising, _Severus thought cynically, _he's got a weapon pressed against his neck._

"Who are you, and why are you here?" Albus asked, looking up at the man's pale features. The man replied shakily, stuttering several times. With a jolt, Severus realised he was speaking Ārian. He felt some small sense of relief, his requests for help had finally been answered. Black jumped up, evidently about to start yelling, so Severus quickly translated.

"Headmaster, he said his name is Lysan Dharker, and that he brings news about Potter," he conveyed. Just as Shacklebolt had said, two others were escorted into the room. Both were taller and bulkier than Dharker.

"Severus, could you please ask him to tell us what he knows?" Dumbledore asked calmly, hoping for good news. Before he was able to speak, Dharker interjected.

"…I can speak… English," he notified them, talking slowly.

"Let him go Kingsley, this could take some time," Dumbledore ordered. Dharker was released, and he searched for words.

"He died," was Dharker's agonisingly blunt reply to the Headmaster's question. A tsunami of intense guilt crashed over Severus, he felt incredibly responsible. Black sunk back into his seat, his head in his hands.

"What do you mean he's dead?" Sirius rasped, incredulity colouring his voice.

"He died …he was attacked… shot here," he tapped his chest twice, apparently finding it difficult to find the correct words. "He had scar, here," he gestured at his own forehead. There was no doubt that Dharker was talking about Potter. "Like lightning," he finished simply. Severus motioned for Dharker to sit beside him, which he did. A calculating edge entered Dumbledore's eyes, he was clearly contemplating his next move.

"Severus, what do you think we need to do?" Albus asked, staring intently at the Potion's Master.

"Talk to Dharker, he might be able to help," Severus replied straightforwardly. The Headmaster seemingly weighed up the pros and cons of telling a complete outsider their predicament. After several minutes of contemplation, Albus decided to trust Severus's judgement.

"There was an evil wizard once, a while ago; he was intent on killing everyone that didn't descend from a pure magical bloodline. Fifteen years ago, I interviewed a woman by the name of Sybill Trelawney for the open Divination position. I wasn't convinced of her abilities, until she made a real prophecy. I listened intently to the prophecy, and when Sybill regained normal consciousness, I heard a noise outside the door.

"Of course, I looked and saw a man retreating: he had obviously been eavesdropping. The spy took the information to Voldemort—the evil wizard I mentioned—and Voldemort decided he would fulfil the prophecy, and grant himself immortality. He went to the place where the other subject of the prophecy was hiding, and killed both of the boy's parents. The boy in hiding was Harry Potter, who, at the time, was one year old.

"Both of Harry's parents defended their son and both perished. However, when Voldemort turned his wand on Harry and attempted to murder him, he found the spell rebounded on himself and destroyed his body—but not his soul.

"According to this prophecy, Harry Potter was the only one able to defeat Voldemort. Unfortunately, he's dead now—as you said—so we're in trouble.

"Several times, Voldemort has attempted to kill Harry within the school walls. I am almost ashamed to admit how easily he managed to get into the castle."

"I think I understand. May I provide my thoughts?" Dharker asked politely, looking thoughtful.

Dumbledore nodded his consent. The other occupants of the room listened intently, including Black.

"I do not believe in prophecy; I believe that prophecies become true because people believe they are true. I believe that if you taught the students this belief, anyone could kill this man."

He spoke thoughtfully, as if he were unsure of himself. Dumbledore thought this was a distinct possibility; he didn't know how long this man had been speaking English.

"So what do you suggest we do?" Dumbledore queried. He had to wait several minutes for the other to answer.

"I think you should tell your students to work harder, and tell them they are as important as Harry Potter," he replied, glancing once more at Severus. "I am quite sure Severus is capable of doing it," he said.

Severus snorted derisively.

"I am missing a key point here," Dharker muttered.

"The only thing you're missing is that I've bullied half of my students—therefore most of them fear me and none of them respect me," Severus said sceptically.

"Ah, yes, that could possibly stop people listening to you," Lysan replied. Dumbledore thought carefully for a few seconds.

"If you are willing, I'm sure you could do the job, do you have any teaching experience?" he asked, peering over his spectacles.

"None at all," Lysan laughed, his laughter dying at the serious expression on the aged wizard's face. "If you gave me a day or two, I might be able to come up with a workable idea," he said pensively, staring at his boots.

"Okay, I think I will give you the benefit of the doubt, you have seven days to come up with a suitable idea and begin, during that time, you may talk to Severus for assistance. I think I will list your 'class' as a homework support group, what you do with it is up to you, within reason," Dumbledore declared grimly, "I need you to fill out some forms."

At his words, Dharker's features coloured deeply, a colour reminiscent of beetroot.

"I only began learning English a few months ago so I cannot read or write yet, I am sorry," he apologised.

"It is something you definitely need to learn, otherwise you're going to have a tough time teaching, but it can't be helped. I will read the form out to you," replied Dumbledore benignly.

"Hang on," Sirius interrupted, "you're just going to let some random foreigner that's just shown up teach?"

"Severus trusts him, and please before you say anything else on this, he hasn't said anything to suggest any malice toward the school," Albus instructed.

Lysan nodded his thanks. At a motion from Albus, Severus retrieved the appropriate form from Dumbledore's desk.

"Firstly, what is your full name?" He dipped a quill in some ink and paused, waiting for an answer.

"Lysan Kimiko Dharker," replied Dharker.

"How is that spelt?" The aged wizard asked, tipping the end of the quill upwards so as not to drip ink on the page.

"I do not know, I did not learn this alphabet, only how to speak."

Again the thin man seemed embarrassed by his lack of knowledge. The blonde man interjected, however, with the correct spelling.

"Thank you. How old are you, Mr Dharker?" Dumbledore asked, privately thinking the willowy man didn't look much older than twenty.

"Nineteen, though I do have experience," Dharker added defensively, as if fearing reprimand.

"To be honest, Mr Dharker, Severus was only two years older than you when he began teaching here. I do not think age matters," Albus said reassuringly, and Severus nodded, confirming it was true. "Have you committed any criminal offences?"

"None," Dharker replied confidently. They continued the question and answer, until the form was completed. Finally, Dumbledore came to a question that he wasn't sure about—he didn't want to sound rude.

"Any contact details I can have for your family?"

Lysan frowned slightly. A lengthy, somewhat terse pause followed, until finally the bulky man coughed. Dumbledore started—he had forgotten about the other occupants of the room.

"Only Kalos," replied Dharker, nodding to his companion. Dumbledore nodded in return and put one form away. He then pointed to the blonde who stepped out of the shadows.

"What is your name?"

"Caelen William Drakkon, Headmaster, and I can read and write."

Dumbledore nodded, and handed the blonde the forms. Once the Headmaster read them over he nodded twice, and looked toward Lysan again, who was studying a runic poster.

"I can have quarters arranged for you for tomorrow. How many of you are there?"

It was Caelen that answered, leading the Headmaster to believe Lysan probably didn't know how to count in English.

"Five, but Kalos and Lysan share a room and we are expecting two more tomorrow. I'm not sure if they will stay though," Drakkon said, staring at the back of Dharker's head.

Dumbledore nodded, deciding not to question them further that evening and scribbled a note.

"You'll have to stay with Severus for this evening," he told them. "I expect you at breakfast tomorrow morning at eight o'clock."

All three nodded and followed Severus out of the office.

* * *

As they neared what Lysan assumed was a dungeon Severus struck a conversation in _Ārian_. They approached a door which Severus unlocked with a heavy bronze key.

"Would any of you like a drink?" Severus asked as they entered his quarters. All three declined. "I only have one spare room, I'm sorry." Lysan looked at Caelen and Kalos before answering.

"Caelen can take that. Kalos and I need to work anyway. I will sleep on the sofa if I need to," Lysan said.

Caelen seemed surprised, but said nothing to disagree. Dharker and Kalos sat on the sofa, in a comfortable silence, until Drakkon left. Severus said goodnight to the pair. He collapsed in bed, an awful feeling plaguing him, he had never felt so guilty, he should've been watching the boy closer. He had broken his promise to Lily, and he felt unpleasant.

* * *

**Notes;**

Ārian is Lysan's native language.


	2. Chapter 2

**In the Middle of Chaos - Chapter Two**

******Beta'd by ShearViscosity**

As soon as Severus and the other three exited Dumbledore's office, Kingsley turned on his heels.

"Okay Albus, I've trusted you this far, why aren't I reporting Black?" He asked suspiciously.

Albus launched into an explanation of the events from the night James and Lily died, informing Shacklebolt of how Black had given his job to Pettigrew.

"However there was a problem," Albus elucidated, "Pettigrew was-"

"Pettigrew was a pathetic, conniving and rotten excuse of a man!" Black exclaimed furiously. "As soon as I gave Lily and James' location to him he scampered off to Voldemort and told him everything! That story about how I blew him to pieces, about how the biggest part of him that could be found was a finger, bullshit! After Voldemort had murdered my friends, I cornered Pettigrew in the street, and that devious bastard cut off his own finger, blasted half of the street, transformed into a rat and ran away! That disgusting wretch framed me, I'm innocent," he finished dejectedly.

"Albus, I find this hard to believe, where is the proof?" Shacklebolt asked.

"There isn't any that would actually count for anything as far as Minister Fudge is concerned, however Miss Granger and Mr Ronald Weasley would be more than happy to give their statements, if it is necessary," Dumbledore replied placidly.

"I trust you, Albus, so I will not be informing Minister Fudge that Sirius is here. I will gather the Aurors and we'll leave tomorrow morning. Goodnight, Albus," he sighed, and left.

* * *

Severus exited his bedroom the next morning to find Dharker sound asleep on his comfortable cream sofa. The boots he had worn the previous evening stood neatly by his feet. Upon closer inspection, Severus found that the boots were black, the knee-length twenty eyelet style, with a thick sole, sporting five buckles, placed at regular intervals down the boot. They were quite worn, but still a well-made pair of boots. Gently, Severus nudged Dharker awake, and waited patiently while he came to his senses.

"Good morning Lysan," Severus declared, once Dharker seemed able to process what was going on.

"It is morning already?" Dharker grumbled as he yawned and stretched; his back arching like a bow as he did so. A small sliver of amusement wormed its way into Severus' mind; Dharker was definitely a teenager.

"It is indeed morning. Would you like to borrow a shirt? I would recommend it, you should make a good impression on your first day," Severus explained, trying to keep the complicated lexis to a minimum.

Although Dharker was still somewhat bleary, he nodded, understanding the importance of first impressions.

Severus glanced at the clock, determining that they only had half an hour before Dumbledore expected them at breakfast. Hurriedly, he entered his bedroom once more to try and locate a shirt that wouldn't look too big or short on the teen. The two of them were built quite differently. Severus was of average height, with quite broad shoulders, whereas Dharker was taller, easily clearing six foot, sporting an overall narrow frame.

A few minutes of frantic rifling later, he thought he found a suitable one. It was a shirt that he had neglected discarding after his teenage years—along with a casual waistcoat. Severus decided that it would add to the air of professionalism –which Dharker of course, did not hold. Once he returned to the living room, he handed the shirt to Lysan.

Swiftly, Dharker changed into the borrowed shirt, slid his feet into his boots and laced them up. Just as he was about to finish buckling them up, Caelen emerged from Severus' spare room, looking quite neat.

* * *

Once in the Great Hall, Lysan sat beside Severus, scanning the sea of students, some of whom could only have been a few years younger than himself. Dumbledore rose to his feet—much like the previous night—and prepared to deliver his grave news.

* * *

Hermione sat with Ron at the Gryffindor table, wishing for news about Harry. She barely felt like eating her porridge. Silence descended on the Hall, as Headmaster Dumbledore stood.

"I am sorry to inform you all, that Mr Potter will not be returning to us," he began, his voice sombre. "I am not fully aware of the circumstances of his death, but it seems to have been an accident. There will be a memorial service at the end of this month. Please do not be too disheartened by the loss of your friend, I am sure that isn't what he would've wanted. I also need to introduce a new member of staff: Mr Lysan Dharker will be commencing lessons shortly." Dumbledore gestured for Dharker to stand. The tall man raised himself, inclined his head in a polite bow, and seated himself again.

Hermione felt an overwhelming sense of sorrow, but did not wish to break down in front of everyone, that would be done later, in private. Instead, she decided to study the new professor.

In her opinion, he looked a little bit like a female version of Snape. As she watched, Snape introduced Professor Dharker to the other members of staff, and to the heads of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and the Durmstrang Institute. After a few minutes of conversation, Dharker picked up a satsuma. That was when Hermione decided to stop watching—she found she wasn't the only one watching him. Dejectedly, she and Ron finished their meal, and went to queue outside the dungeons.

* * *

"I… can't believe he's gone…" Ron muttered, glaring absently at the floor.

Feeling that she couldn't find a suitable reply, Hermione stayed silent, churning Dumbledore's speech through her head, analysing every word he spoke. Malfoy and his cronies arrived just before the lesson was due to begin. Unusually, Snape was not yet present.

"Oh, it is such a shame," he sneered loudly, "that Potter is dead. He is finally with his stupid mudblood mother!"

Hermione felt enraged. She wanted nothing more than to be able to punch Malfoy in his smug mouth. She would have done it, if Snape hadn't arrived.

"Mr Malfoy," he barked, as he unlocked his classroom door. "That word is inappropriate, you shouldn't be using it."

Shock and disbelief shone on both the Gryffindor's and the Slytherin's faces; they weren't used to Snape reprimanding Malfoy. Tactful as ever, it was Ron that gawked openly at the sour professor, as if he'd never seen him before.

As soon as they were all seated, Snape began his lecture, and Hermione dutifully took notes. Her handwriting wasn't as neat as it normally was, but that was understandable. Vaguely, she detected the sounds of a woman shouting from the Entrance Hall, and wondered what was going on. Snape's lecture ground to a halt, and he began writing instructions on the blackboard. Once the ingredient list was written down, Hermione began to set up her equipment. Perhaps a little more sluggishly than normal, she began preparing her ingredients.

Around ten minutes later, there was a sharp knock at the door. The door opened to reveal the new professor.

"Severus," he said, his deep voice cutting easily through the clatter of knives. "Do you mind if I steal some space?" Dharker asked, nodding to the wooden box he was holding.

"If you need to brew, there are two burners on the back table, or if you need space to keep ingredients, the store cupboard is behind my desk," Snape answered courteously. Dharker thanked the Potion's Master, and sat beside Hermione.

As he began to set up his things, Hermione couldn't help but be a little interested. No teachers had ever come into Snape's lesson, and as far as she could remember; the only person Snape conversed with in such a civil manner was Dumbledore.

Dharker began putting several types of herb into a mortar, just as Hermione started adding ingredients to her own potion's base. As she waited for her potion to boil, she snuck a sidelong glance at the professor's mortar. With a small hint of surprise, she realised they were all ingredients with strong healing properties.

"Excuse me," she murmured, "are you the one that found our friend, Harry?"

"_Neína_, part of the group," he replied, looking up from his work. "Were you one of his friends?"

"I was," Hermione confirmed, a slight tremor to her voice. "…Was it quick?" she asked, her gaze hardening. Dharker seemed hesitant.

"Probably, and I am sorry we did not arrive sooner," he said, sincerity colouring his voice.

A faint feeling of relief ebbed into Hermione—she had half expected Voldemort's involvement in both the abduction and death of her friend. She couldn't concentrate; she drifted into a nightmarish daydream, different scenarios of Harry's death playing in her head. An acrid scent caught Hermione's attention, and she realised her potion was about to boil over, and reduced the flame. She was vaguely aware of Dharker adding lavender oil to whatever he was doing. She couldn't recall a potion that needed those ingredients though, so she was very tempted to ask about it.

"Hey Hermione," Ron started abruptly, "I'm not the only one that's noticed that Snape is being nicer than usual, right?" He seemed very confused.

"Severus is the one who asked me to look for Potter," Dharker informed them both as he continued working, now soaking linen pads and bandages in the poultice he had made.

"Pardon?" Hermione asked, a perplexed note entering her voice.

"Did I say it wrong?" Dharker queried anxiously. "Severus asked my family to look for a student, my grandfather sent me," Dharker explained, as he plunged the bandages into the water boiling in his cauldron.

Hermione was about to answer, but Dharker stood, and approached Snape's desk. They conversed in low tones, too low for Hermione to make out properly. Distractedly, Hermione resumed working on her potion, barely discerning what she was doing. Dharker picked his way across the classroom, and spoke to Malfoy, then moved on to Neville, she could just about distinguish what he was saying.

"…my office at six o'clock, please, Neville…" he asked, his voice leaving little room for disagreement.

Hermione could imagine the look of fear on Neville's face, he was being told to go to a teacher's office on the teacher's first day. Dharker didn't speak to anyone else, he picked up the cauldron he was using, turned out the flame and swiftly exited the classroom.

"What do you think he wanted with Malfoy and Neville?" Ron asked.

"Maybe something about his class, we don't even know when he's going to be teaching," Hermione replied, as she bottled a sample of her potion. She took it to the front of the class, and as she put it on Professor Snape's desk, she could have sworn she saw a hint of sympathy in his normally frigid expression. While she was there, she decided to ask about something that had been annoying her since breakfast.

"Professor," she started cautiously, her voice trembling slightly. "How old is Professor Dharker?"

Snape looked a little surprised that she had asked such a personal question.

"You assume I know such a thing," he said cryptically, the acidic tone his voice usually held was gone. "He is not a lot older than the seventh years, however the subject he is setting up he would have been taught since he began school," Snape informed her, before gesturing for her to return to her seat.

* * *

Lysan entered his quarters for the first time, and was quite impressed by the decor; it was quite clean, simplistic and neutral. He was unfazed by the large melanistic wolf that was lounging on the sofa. Carefully, he spread the bandages and linen pads out on the table so that they could dry. Wearily, he looked around and noticed that only one door was open, which he assumed was to be his bedroom.

There was a sturdy desk in one corner, and a heavy looking wardrobe towered in the other unoccupied corner. Drowsily, he sat on his bed until eventually he slumped over fast asleep.

* * *

Draco strode confidently along the sixth floor corridor, feeling a wicked sense of glee. Professor Dharker had talked to him before Granger. In Draco's opinion, that was certain victory. On the other hand, a snide voice reminded him, the Professor also talked to Longbottom.

_Longbottom_.

Maybe Longbottom was in trouble and Draco wasn't. It was a rather slim hope. What was the Professor even going to teach, Draco wondered curiously, as well was when he was going to—their timetables were full already. He knocked on the office door and was instructed to enter.

Longbottom was already seated in front of the desk, staring at his knees in terror.

"Good evening," Professor Dharker greeted, motioning for Draco to sit. "You have been chosen to join my class. The class will be a mixture of physical defence, survival skills, potions and herbalism. Both of you are going to be team leaders. Each team leader will have two assistants—you get to pick them yourselves by the way—and is responsible for the welfare of their groups. If your group is falling behind, you will be the ones I talk to first. Neville, you are to lead '_konpai' _group; my English is not very good yet, so I cannot really explain what it means. I need you to find two people who you think will work well in your group," Dharker explained, handing Longbottom a piece of paper. The title of the page wasn't anything either Draco or Longbottom could identify, so they had to assume it read _konpai_. On the piece of paper was a neatly written list. "Draco, you are to lead '_dechī_' group."

Draco looked at the list he was given, and found it was characteristics. He assumed that people with the characteristics listed would be better at the specialised tasks that each group would be given. Dharker dismissed them, informing them that there would be a lesson on Thursday at seven o'clock in the evening. Draco nodded, he had three days to find two people.

* * *

**Notes**

Arian is a made up language, based loosely off of Mandarin Chinese and Japanese, both of which I have studied for some time.


	3. Chapter 3

******Beta'd by ShearViscosity**

* * *

Lysan stepped into the Great Hall at approximately 7:50 AM, and glanced around. He felt a pang of unease as he noticed a petite, melancholic girl sitting by herself.

Something touched his arm, and he quelled the urge to jump.

"That's Miss Lovegood, the one on her own," Severus alerted Dharker, as he made his way to the staff table. Without a second thought, Dharker sat beside the girl.

"Good morning," he greeted, trying hard to sound cheerful. A surprised look flitted across the girl's features; this was obviously a rare occurrence.

"Morning, Professor," she replied. There was a distant quality to her voice, as if she were deep in a daydream.

"I would like you to join my class," Dharker informed her casually.

Within seconds, Dharker realised she would be a difficult person to read, though not impossible. A sign, he privately believed, that she had been bullied in the past. He felt a great deal of empathy for the small girl. "Class begins Thursday at seven o'clock. Bring two people with you," he instructed and handed her a sheet of paper. Briefly, she glanced at it before folding it and putting it in her school bag.

* * *

"Hey Longbottom," Draco called as he lined up outside Transfiguration. The group of Gryffindors glared at him suspiciously as he approached. "Have you done your homework for Dharker yet?" he asked, wondering if the other had more success than he had. Longbottom shook his head.

"Do you even have any ideas where to look?" Longbottom enquired, ignoring the disbelieving stares he was receiving. "Actually, I did have one idea," he revealed, looking over his assignment sheet.

"You do?" Draco confirmed, hoping Longbottom would tell him who he had in mind.

"Yeah, this sheet says someone enthusiastic and energetic, I was thinking Colin Creevey," Longbottom divulged, running a hand through his hair.

"He would make sense I suppose, got any other ideas?" Draco asked; feeling slightly worried as his fellow Slytherins appeared. Longbottom shook his head, and Draco retreated to the ranks of his friends.

He really had no idea who to ask to be in the class with him. Draco felt the problem with asking Slytherins was that very few of them would take the class seriously, and if what Dharker said was true, he would be the one facing the consequences if his team members did not perform to a satisfactory standard.

He entered the Transfiguration classroom, handing his work in as he did. It was a theory lesson, consisting of a lecture and some note-taking, and Draco found he quickly switched off. He began doodling various patterns over his notes, twisting helixes and winding vortices. McGonagall glared in his direction, and Draco stopped drawing.

Draco was finding it difficult to concentrate. Weasley was whispering furiously to Granger, something about the little sister always disappearing. He sat up a little straighter. Though he didn't entirely like the idea of talking to the youngest Weasley, he realised she had many of the qualities described on the homework sheet. She was loyal, she was able to sneak around after dark—Draco was absolutely sure of it, she grew up with the infamous twins after all— yet she was willing to fight for what she believed in. The question now was how would he talk to her without getting hexed? He honestly had no idea.

Several hours later, as he was walking toward the Great Hall, he and the Weasley girl crossed paths. A contemptuous look was thrown in his direction, however unperturbed, Draco turned to face her.

"Hey Weasley, can I speak to you for a minute?" He asked cautiously, mentally prepared for whatever came his way. Copper coloured hair flailed around her as she whirled on her heel.

"What do you want, Malfoy? Are you going to gloat because Harry is dead?" Ginny asked, her tone accusatory. Draco shook his head, and began to explain the real reason he was talking to her.

"No, it's not that," he said softly. "I've been asked to inform you that Dharker's class begins on Thursday at seven o'clock in the evening, his classroom is on the sixth floor, and he's picked you to be in the class." Draco decided against informing her that she was in fact Draco's own choice.

"How do I know you aren't playing some horrible trick on me?" She enquired sceptically.

"Ask Longbottom, he's been chosen too," he replied, resisting the urge to scowl. A glare was thrown his way.

"I am telling you the truth, Weasley!" Draco exclaimed. A smile curled Ginny's lips—there was a cruel, threatening quality behind it— and she stared into his eyes. It felt as if she were judging his soul.

"Okay, I'll talk to Neville. If you are lying, so help you!" With a final flourish of her flame tinted hair, she departed.

* * *

Ginny sat beside Neville in the Great Hall, waiting patiently for him to look in her direction. Currently, he was deep in conversation with Colin Creevey, apparently discussing the new professor. Interestedly, Ginny listened to what they were saying.

"He's got a very thick accent," Neville informed Colin, glancing around as he did. "He is also very frank, that could be because he doesn't know enough English to elaborate on some of his points," he continued.

"Is there really going to be a class on Thursday?" Ginny asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"Yes, it's going to be the first official class," Neville replied, "Did Malfoy ask you to join?"

"He didn't ask me, he said I was chosen," she said, bewildered by the turn of events.

"We were asked to bring two people with us, because of the class structure. That means he must've thought you were the right person. I'm sorry you're going to have to be Malfoy's subordinate," Neville sympathised, a look of pity etched into his features.

"Malfoy is such a scumbag! I have to be his subordinate?" Ginny asked incredulously. She didn't get a response. Fury raged throughout her being, just as Dharker slipped into the hall. "How are we even sure that's a man?!" Ginny wondered maliciously. A reproachful stare came from Hermione's direction.

"Well, he was introduced as a 'Mister', Professor Snape referred to Professor Dharker as 'he' and—" Neville cut across Hermione.

"He's got a really deep voice too, sorry Hermione, I didn't mean to interrupt you," Neville apologised, and continued conversing with Colin. Silently, she fumed, glowering in the general direction of Malfoy and Dharker. The professor was talking to one of the Hufflepuff girls.

* * *

Dharker sat down beside Severus, with Drakkon somewhere to his left.

Disturbingly, he didn't recognise much of the food, only the fruits that were somewhere near Drakkon.

"How is Kaede?" Dharker asked Severus abruptly, unsure if she had arrived yet. Shock registered briefly on the sallow man's features, before an ecstatic smile lit up his face.

"Different, but I'm glad she's here," Severus replied, "She's asleep at the moment, I think the journey wore her out."

One of the teachers, Flitwick if Dharker remembered correctly, turned to look at Severus speculatively.

"Sorry to interrupt you, but whom might Kaede be?" He asked, his high pitched voice glittering with intrigue. Severus looked surprised; almost saddened that no one else seemed to remember.

"Kaede is my wife, here look," Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out a picture of a willowy woman with short brunette hair. Flitwick studied it briefly before passing it back.

"Of course, I remember now, you were quite distressed when you were separated. How many years has it been since you last saw her?" Flitwick enquired. A few other members of staff were also listening, some more discreetly than others.

"Nearly ten years," Severus responded curtly.

Dharker looked around the hall, noting many students were watching the staff table, he wondered if this was a common occurrence.

"They're probably wondering why I'm talking to you, I'm not known for being talkative. I'm not known for having a wife either—they are going to be surprised in the morning," Severus snickered, and took a sip of coffee.

"My gender could be confusing them," Dharker said, scowling bleakly. The wording of Dharker's point was a little off, but Severus could understand what he meant. Ambiguity was high amongst the race Dharker was from. Memories drifted through his conscious, a time when Kaede was boyish, all ribs and sharp angles, a million miles away from what she looked like now.

"If you cut your hair, you'd look less feminine," he suggested, already guessing the response he was going to receive. The shocked expression he got made Severus think he had said something sacrilegious.

"At home it would be wrong. Orani would…" he trailed off dejectedly, unsure of himself. An understanding passed between them.

"I know he wouldn't like it, actually I have another idea. Even though you won't be teaching the majority of students, you really should try and talk to as many of them as you can, otherwise you'll have a worse reputation than Trelawney." Snape informed him. Dharker nodded in agreement, fiddling with a strand of hair as he did. A series of half-healed holes lined the shell of his ear. "Also, I don't think anyone would object to earrings," he revealed. A bright smile lit up Dharker's features.

"That is good. I feel strange without them." Dharker curled his fingers, wishing he could give a more accurate expression. "Do you think I should write out a plan for my class?"

"Do you have an idea of what you're going to do with it?" Severus questioned, unsure of how much assistance the newest member of staff was going to need.

"I have some ideas. I was thinking a system similar to '_okama'_, '_keirisu' _and '_tzuurokku'_. These in standard groupings. Mr Malfoy is _dechī _and Mr Longbottom is _konpai._" Dharker explained.

"Though the system is not too complex for someone that is used to it, you should write everything down and pass it on to me so that I can translate it, anyone that needs information can look it up. In the meantime, learn some more English," Severus instructed. Dharker gave a small bow, stood and swept out of the Great Hall.

* * *

**AN - thanks for anyone that has read this far :D it makes me happy!**


	4. Chapter 4

**In the Middle of Chaos - Chapter 4**

******Beta'd by ShearViscosity**

* * *

Frantically, Lysan upended the rucksack of personal belongings he had brought with him and stared at the jumbled heap on the floor. Soap, shampoo, conditioner, a pendant, a pot of black henna, a fine paintbrush, a pair of long arm warmers, his wallet, a white school blouse, a t-shirt with Ārian expletives scrawled all over it, a long-sleeved ash grey flannel shirt, a pair of white combat trousers, running shorts and a pair of blue tartan jeans lay messily at his feet. Hastily, he took the toiletries in the bathroom alongside his toothbrush.

An emergency staff meeting was to be held later that day and the clothing he had with him was completely inappropriate. He had not expected to be away from home for more than a week. Frustrated, he picked up the flannel shirt and threw it on his bed. Lazily, Kalos watched from his spot on the floor. A timid knock came from his door, and Lysan opened it.

Drakkon stood in the doorway holding a pair of neatly folded black dress trousers and a belt.

"I heard about the meeting, you can borrow these if you like," he offered politely. Appreciatively, Lysan accepted the clothing, thanking the blonde profusely.

Drakkon stayed silent as he retreated. Slowly, Lysan tugged his t-shirt off, and slipped his arms into the grey shirt. He pulled on the trousers and tucked his shirt in. Once that was done, Lysan began the tedious task of folding the baggy trousers in a manner that would allow them to be slide into his boots.

He stepped out of his bedroom, ignoring the appreciative glance he got from Caelen and looked around for a hairband. Eventually, he found one that he had lost the previous morning.

Dharker tied his hair up and as he exited his quarters, he was sure he heard Drakkon mutter, "You look nice today," but he wasn't sure.

He had given himself plenty of time to find the staff room, which he located with a little bit of help from a passing student. There were only a few other members of staff missing at the time he arrived, so he took a place next to Severus. An elderly witch stared at him; he couldn't remember her name but he knew it was something he had trouble pronouncing.

"Severus," Flitwick squeaked, "why didn't you bring your wife to breakfast? We're all very excited to meet her."

"Kaede said she isn't feeling well, so she's resting at the moment," Severus revealed, leaning casually on his elbow. Before he could elaborate, the Headmaster sat at the head of the table.

"Before we begin the meeting, I just need to inform you all of a few things regarding our new Professor. First, he has never been a student at Hogwarts and is therefore is quite blind to our system. Severus has volunteered to be his mentor for the coming months."

Severus scowled at the shocked looks he received; to Dharker it appeared as if even the teachers didn't have faith in his compassion.

"In addition to being unaware of this particular school's customs, English is not Lysan's first language, and while it appears he has a good enough grasp on the language to understand general conversation, he may still have some difficulties. Any written notes that need to go to him for the time being should be sent to Severus first."

"I will do my best to learn," Dharker added, flushing slightly. Dumbledore nodded and continued.

"I hope you do not encounter too many problems. On to the matter at hand—Mr Potter's relatives have not yet been informed of his death. I fear that if we send a message via owl, which is extremely impersonal, they will not read it. This means that one of us will have to go there personally. I think it should be Minerva—obviously you knew him better than other members of staff," he said turning toward the elderly woman.

"Of course I'll go, Albus," she accepted.

"Hold on a moment Albus," Snape interrupted. He and Dharker conversed briefly in Ārian, the younger one speaking rapidly and with more confidence than Albus had seen in previous conversations. "I think it would be a better idea if the two of us go," Severus stated abruptly.

"Why is that, Severus?" Minerva asked irately.

"We both have a few errands to run, so we may as well talk to Potter's relatives and then see to our other business," he explained quickly. Dumbledore considered it carefully before motioning his consent.

"Fire-call Arabella so that she can provide you with a place to apparate," Dumbledore instructed. Severus nodded and led a very confused Lysan out of the staff room.

The pair quickly made their way through the long corridors of the school, pausing momentarily in the Entrance Hall so that the Potion's Master could retrieve two coats from his quarters. The one he had given to Dharker was too big; it hung off his shoulders, making him seem slimmer than he was.

They strode across the grounds, the taller one seemingly fascinated by the frost on the grass and foliage. Once they were past the gates, Severus grasped the younger man's elbow tightly, and twisted.

* * *

Lysan looked up and down the length of Privet Drive, intrigued by the design of the street. They were standing in front of a well-kept house, waiting for someone to answer the door. Apparating was not pleasant; he felt like he was being asphyxiated. Severus tried hard not to laugh at the teen's discomfort. A woman with angular features opened the door, and smiled graciously.

"How can I help you?" She asked, the civility in her voice seemed to be stretched very thin. The Potion's Master glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice.

"Petunia, sorry to intrude but I need to come in," He stated, a menacing tone lacing his words. With a scowl, the woman stepped aside, and allowed the two into her home.

"Severus, what are you doing here?" She stepped aside and allowed them to enter the house. Dharker noted many pictures on the wall, though none were of the child he and his team had found –he really couldn't remember the boy's name either. "Well, what are you doing here? The last I heard, you were working in that blasted school." The woman declared waspishly.

"We're here about your nephew," Severus informed her.

"I'm utterly fed up of receiving news that the brat has gotten into more trouble every few months! I suppose you better tell me what on earth he's done this time, seeing as it warrants a home visit from_two_teachers."

Dharker found the irascible intonation unsettling, it seemed as if the woman resented looking after her nephew. It took a few moments for him to realise that he needed to answer.

"He died. He was shot in the heart, I am sorry."

Severus sensed that a better explanation was going to be needed, so he continued where Dharker had left off.

"We think he was taken off of the school grounds by someone, he ended up being taken to Germany, where he was killed, we are sorry we could not act sooner."

A terrible grimace contorted the woman's features.

"Get out of my house!" She ordered forcefully. "I warned that brat about talking to strangers and now he's gone and gotten himself killed. It's his own damn fault then. Get out." They both stood, hurriedly leaving the Dursley residence.

* * *

Draco calmly made his way to Professor Dharker's first class with Blaise Zabini. In the end, he had decided that Zabini was the best choice, as he hardly ever got into fights with the other houses. A group of ten other students gathered outside the classroom, including Hannah Abbott, Luna Lovegood, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, a second year Gryffindor girl that Draco didn't know, Lisa Turpin and Anthony Goldstein. The students seemed nervous, they probably hadn't expected the presence of two Slytherins.

The door across the hall opened, and a blonde man holding a blood-stained cloth emerged.

"Your class will begin in a few minutes, Lysan is just dealing with a nosebleed at the moment, sorry," he informed them and went back inside. The small group of students looked around nervously and the ones that knew each other began conversing quietly. Draco and Zabini stood awkwardly apart from the rest of the class, waiting for their teacher to show up.

Eventually—nearly ten minutes late— the Professor arrived, carrying a stack of papers. Granger opened the classroom door for him. Once inside the classroom, Dharker placed the papers on the desk closest to the door.

"Okay everyone, come in and take a seat. Please stick to your groups for now. Also, take a sheet of paper and read through it." Dharker instructed as he looked around the room. Draco took a sheet of paper and sat at the back of the room with Blaise and Weasley, who seemed very annoyed that she was not with her friends. The writing on the parchment was very neat and easy to read.

_Class Structure:_

_Konpai (vanguards) – As a member of the konpai group, you will be a part of the first line of defence. Konpai soldiers are brave, courageous and eager to protect their loved ones, their home and their country. Over the course of the remainder of the year you will be learning a range of useful magical as well as physical styles of combat._

_Saette (medics) – As a member of the saette group, you will be responsible for removing injured people from the field and treating them, though this will not be your sole duty. You will also need to evacuate civilians from the field and the surrounding area. Over the coming months you will learn many field healing techniques, potions, salves, poultices, spells and some minor defensive manoeuvres._

_Dechī(ambush soldiers) – As a member of the dechī group; you will play a major part in aiding the konpai group. You will ambush the adversary, flank them, and disable them using a wide range of skills. You will learn how to ambush groups of people, how to make and set traps both magical and physical, you will learn how to attack specific points on a person's bod, and gain some knowledge of poisons._

_Ushiyou (strategists) – As a member of the ushiyou group, you will be responsible for creating viable strategies for the other groups, and commanding their movement in conflicts. You will also be researching new tactics for other groups, and resources for them to use, such as new potions._

Draco finished reading and was extremely curious. It seemed as if the Professor was preparing them for war, but the topics sounded interesting enough. He quickly realised that he was going to enjoy most aspects of the class, and as he looked at the other members of his team, he knew he had made good decisions. There was a mild sense of inquisitiveness throughout the rest of the class as well; he knew he wasn't the only one waiting for the Professor to begin.

"Okay, I am sure you have had time to read. You might be surprised at the concepts, but this is what each group will learn. There are also lessons that all of you will learn. This lesson, I am going to come talk to each group. After today, the groups will have separate lessons. Also, there will be one lesson a week with all students. Konpai lesson time is Tuesday six o'clock. Dechī, Tuesday seven o'clock. Saette, Thursday six o'clock. Ushiyou, Thursday, seven o'clock. The entire class lesson will be Wednesday, six o'clock."

Dharker turned to the blackboard and wrote his name, though his strokes were not confident. A faint touch of surprise appeared in Draco's mind at the letter 'H' in Dharker's surname, he had not expected it. "This is my name, as you would write it. However, if something needs urgent attention, please write this;" next to the English letters, he quickly scrawled an entirely different set of characters in a vertical fashion.

The rest of the class began talking amongst themselves as he sat with Longbottom's group. Weasley carefully copied out both of the pieces of information on the blackboard, and looked awkwardly at the two Slytherins in her team. Once more, the Professor stood at the front of the class.

"Sorry, I forgot to talk about something. I have heard about some teachers favouring certain students. I am not going to pretend I understand why students are split into Houses. I will do my best to treat all of you equally. I also expect you to treat each other with respect," he stated with such conviction that Draco was tempted to believe bullying was not going to be tolerated. It was Ron who voiced his own concerns however.

"That's impossible! Slytherins and Gryffindors have hated each other since the time of the Founders!" Weasley grumbled loudly. A look of momentary confusion passed over the Professor's features.

"Slytherin…" he muttered. "The name is familiar to me."

"Salazar Slytherin," Draco offered helpfully. The moment of recognition and understanding was almost heart-warming.

"Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor? Were they some of the Founders?" He asked, looking around.

"Supposedly, they got into a fight over something and then Slytherin turned to dark magic," Granger informed him, and Draco decided her encyclopaedic knowledge was quite useful for Dharker.

"No that is not what happened," he retorted confidently. "Of this I am certain. They were…" Dharker trailed off frowning deeply as he tried to find the right word. Eventually he snapped a single word. _"Love." _The suddenness of the barked word made Draco shiver.

"Sir, what do you mean?" Granger asked curiously.

"Ask Professor Snape," was Dharker's only reply. He dismissed Longbottom's group, and then made his way to Draco's group.

They conversed briefly about the subject, and the Professor advised them not to wear robes to his classes, as a large portion of the lessons would involve physical activity. Draco half-expected Weasley to complain about her placement in the class, but she stayed silent, apparently willing to give the group a try.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – In the Middle of Chaos**

* * *

Anxiously, Severus watched Kaede's lithe arms as she combed her unruly brunette tresses. It was almost uncanny how the untidy brown locks resembled Potter's crop of messy black hair. She was wearing a simple green blouse and a black skirt— in Severus's opinion, she looked stunning.

"Are you sure this is appropriate?" Kaede asked as she nervously fiddled with her top button.

"You look amazing, I promise," stated Severus calmly.

His gaze was drawn to a particular spot on her throat. The frail apex of a cherry blossom branch curled delicately over the fair skin, and a butterfly's intricate wing-tip peeked teasingly from beneath her blouse collar. The evening that his wife had arrived Severus had spent over an hour exploring Kaede's amethyst tattooed body. Her ivory flesh had been turned into an amazing mural of different flora and butterflies. The two most elaborate –and Severus's personal favourites- were an extravagant and beautiful butterfly perched daintily on the silken skin of Kaede's right breast, and the other was a striking lily drawn elegantly at the top of her left inner thigh. Severus swallowed thickly, not wishing to pursue either of those lines of thought for much longer. When Severus had questioned her about the striking ink on her flesh, she had simply explained that as a soldier, she had wanted to feel more feminine. He felt as though that was as good a reason as any, and he was compelled to reassure her, swearing that she was the most beautiful and feminine woman he knew. The shallow blush that tinted her skin at his words had been wonderful. Once more, he had to tear himself away from his indecent thoughts.

"Come on," he called, his voice embarrassingly strained. "They're going to think I've made you up if you don't come today."

Kaede slipped her shoes on and clasped Severus's hand. She was ready to go. Severus wasn't entirely sure how he felt about his students seeing Kaede, no doubt more terrible rumours about him would begin circulating. Even if there were horrible tales, he knew Kaede wouldn't be at all distressed about them; she was a strong woman after all.

They walked into the Hall, Severus's arm around Kaede's shoulder. He could already see the curious and somewhat angry stares. Some members of staff, even, had a slightly incredulous expression. They had clearly not expected Severus's wife to be the curvaceous woman that she was, they were probably imagining a slender woman reminiscent of Lily Potter.

He sat down, glaring at his colleagues.

"What were you expecting, Bellatrix Lestrange?" He asked maliciously, feeling more than a little hurt. "Well, this is my wife Kaede," he introduced. Warm smiles and friendly greetings came from many of the other members of staff, and Severus was relieved they were being pleasant.

It had been a difficult morning for Draco. Already, half of his fellow Slytherin year-mates had interrogated him about the class, but he hadn't said anything other than that it was interesting. Sulkily, he observed the other students, trying to find abnormalities in their behaviour. After a little while, the doors opened and Professor Snape walked in. Draco sat up a little straighter in shock. The Professor had his arm slung casually over the shoulders of a woman, and he wasn't wearing his normal robes, instead he sported a plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Even Draco—who had been to the Professor's house numerous times—had not seen Snape's arms this bare. It was unsurprising when a ripple of hushed whispers ran the length of the hall regarding who this woman was. Draco thought she looked nice, she was curvaceous without being excessive.

"Who do you think that is?" Pansy asked incredulously. Privately, Draco thought that the answer to her question was quite obvious; Draco knew that the Professor wouldn't walk so casually arm-in-arm with any random person. She had to be someone quite close to the Potion's Master.

"That is probably his mother, sister, girlfriend or wife," Blaise supplied, voicing Draco's exact thoughts. "I don't think it's his mother though, they look too different."

Excitement bubbled in Draco's chest, it was only a few more hours before he could find out what Professor Dharker had meant the previous evening about Slytherin and Gryffindor.

When Potions finally came around, Draco could barely contain himself. It was only a deeply ingrained sense of dignity that prevented him from fidgeting impatiently. He was a little bit surprised to find Professor Dharker sitting in a corner, carefully dicing a convoluted root of some kind. Anyone that wasn't in the Professor's class the night before gave the slim man a disgruntled look, they really weren't used to other teachers being in Snape's lessons. Doubting sincerely that the Professor would prove to be a great distraction, Draco began setting up his things beside him.

Suddenly, the Professor splayed his fingers, mumbling something as he did, and Draco was able to catch a glimpse of something black on his palm. Once more, his curiosity peaked, but he ignored that in favour of glancing at the Gryffindor side of the classroom.

Granger's hand was already in the air, waiting for Snape to notice her.

"What is it, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape asked, nodding in her direction.

"Sir, we were told to ask you about something, would you be able to tell us about Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor?" She enquired politely. "Professor Dharker said you would know," she continued brightly. Dharker himself offered a quick sentence in his own language, but otherwise said nothing. Surprise flickered briefly over Professor Snape's features, but he hid it quickly.

"Alright, I will explain," he asserted. "Slytherin and Gryffindor did not seem to have a rivalry, as '_Hogwarts; A History_' suggests. The story goes that they got into an argument about whether or not to allow Muggleborn students into the school, and that afterwards Slytherin began plotting revenge and using dark magic, which led to his banishment.

"This version of events only came to light at the beginning of the fifteenth century. The version that is written in Slytherin's journal is different, however. Supposedly, Gryffindor wasn't as charming as some sources seem to indicate. According to Slytherin, he was the same as any other man, when his own personal interests conflicted with that of others, he would occasionally put his own needs first. Gryffindor and Slytherin were actually debating about whether or not to send the Muggleborns home with the rest of the students. At the time, Ravenclaw had lost her daughter, Hufflepuff was looking after her first child, and Gryffindor's wife was heavily pregnant. In that time, everyone knew where Hogwarts was, and most people, even the Muggles, knew exactly what it was. There had been several attacks on the carriages carrying Muggleborn students—of course the children from magical families had other modes of transport. The debate went on for many days, until finally Gryffindor received terrible news.

"His wife and son had died in childbirth," Snape revealed morosely. The hint of sorrow in the Professor's voice surprised Draco, he hadn't expected Snape to feel so strongly. A few minutes of silence followed, while the Potion's Master tried to decide how to continue.

"In his grief, Gryffindor collapsed, unable to bear the strain. Slytherin took charge, and against his own wishes sent the students home, as he was now the only functioning somewhat normally. He felt distressed at the condition of his friends, but he was certainly in better condition than the others. Once all the students had left, Slytherin tried to find Gryffindor, but couldn't. Worried about his friend, he searched for hours until finally he found the other. Gryffindor's situation was dire, the anguish had evidently been too much, and he felt as if he couldn't live any longer. Supposedly, Slytherin healed and comforted Gryffindor."

Professor Snape paused again, seemingly growing uncomfortable, Dharker watched intently. After a few seconds, when it was apparent that Snape didn't know how to continue, Dharker stepped in, trying his best to speak well.

"They became lovers," he exposed. A shocked clamour of protest crashed through the class, no one seemed willing to believe him, and the noise went on until Snape began glaring at the students.

"I do not know how true the emotion was to begin with. In the end, they loved each other greatly, together for sixty years. When Gryffindor eventually died, Slytherin returned to his home. Married a woman called Aina Kyraka, and had many children."

Once more, Hermione's hand shot into the air, within milliseconds she was ejaculating questions, speaking faster than Draco believed possible.

"Why was all of this kept a secret? Wasn't homosexuality a bad thing? Also, wouldn't Slytherin be a little sad his partner of sixty years died, why did he get married straight after? What did the other founders think? What about the students?" She paused for breath, and Snape looked absolutely terrified. "Hang on, what about the Chamber of Secrets? Why would he need that to get rid of muggleborns if he was so muggleborn friendly?"

Professor Snape regained his composure and began anew.

"The version of events written in 'Hogwarts; A History' came to light later on, at the time of the founders homosexuality in Europe was not a taboo, homosexuality and sodomy only became problematic in later centuries, sodomy used to refer to a relationship that is 'out of sorts'. The only real reason why the true version of events is not so well known is that most of the original sources are lost, only a few remain and at least two aren't even in Britain. Professor Dharker, perhaps you could shed some light on Slytherin's marriage?"

Dharker looked positively alarmed to be back in the spotlight, and for a few seconds he was silent.

"I was not clear enough, sorry. He married after a few years, not right away." He ceased speaking and stared at Snape.

"Wouldn't that mean that Slytherin was in his nineties or something?" Hermione questioned, "how on earth did he manage?"

"I believe he was not human, a _feishii, _I think," Snape informed her uncertainly.

"That is not so. Feishii are the result of thousands of years of breeding among demons, fae and elves. An unusual mix, _feiriku._" Dharker supplied. Snape seemingly understood the blending of two languages.

"Well, that explains the longevity then, he was half fae, half vampire." Snape explained cautiously. Draco was finding all of the new information difficult to comprehend. "Don't scoff, Miss Granger, stranger mixes have happened. Going back to the matter at hand, I don't think the other Founders had any issues with the relationship, perhaps to begin with they were worried that Slytherin was taking advantage of Gryffindor's state of being, but after a while I guess their fears were allayed. As for the Chamber of Secrets, the other Founders knew about it, it was considered a place for Slytherin's pet to roam around, after all more than a few students would be completely petrified –excuse the pun- if a whopping great basilisk were to slither down the corridor, in addition to the fear factor you do have the genuine problem of basilisks being more than a little bit dangerous to people that do not speak parseltongue. It was merely intended to be a safe place that the snake could enjoy. I think that answers all of your questions."

Draco wasn't entirely sure what to think. On the one hand, this account was supposedly written in Slytherin's own journal, but on the other hand, he had never heard any other evidence of this rendering of events.

"Onto the lesson then," Snape said, the usual harsh quality in his voice was gone. "This is a research lesson, go through your textbooks and find an interesting potion. I want to know what the ingredients are, how each one interacts with the others, the individual effects of each ingredient and the combined effect."

Draco flicked through his book, trying to find something good. Beside him, Dharker insouciantly dropped tiny leaves into his cauldron. It was as if the man hadn't just blasted a hole in everyone's knowledge and image of the Founders. Once everyone was working diligently, the Potion's Master picked his way down Draco's row, placing a stool opposite Dharker. To begin with, Dharker ignored him, concentrating instead on his own work. Once he came to a point where the potion needed to simmer, he looked up at Snape. Subtly, Draco titled his head so that he could hear the ensuing conversation.

"So what happened to your other three companions?" Professor Snape asked casually.

"One of them was Kaede," Dharker replied. Elatedly, Draco realised the woman from earlier was named Kaede. Dharker elaborated with "the other two were not allowed to stay."

He may have been wrong, but Draco swore Dharker sounded incredibly amused at the turn of events.

"One was my _hanare_," Dharker continued, a biting edge to the final word. At 'hanare' Snape jerked forward in surprise.

"You're engaged?"

"I am," Dharker confirmed irately. "I do not like her though." With downright vicious movements, he ground up a handful of berries. Interestedly, Draco continued listening.

"Why don't you like her? Why are you even engaged to a woman you don't like?" Snape asked inquisitively. They were just two of many questions that Draco himself had, but he knew it would be rude to ask such personal questions, and it would be obvious that he had been eavesdropping.

"It was arranged by Orani," Dharker virtually growled. A wave of sympathy ebbed into Draco's being, as he himself had managed to talk his way out of an arranged marriage. "I do not like her because she is a filthy whore."

Well, Draco couldn't say he was expecting that answer, he had anticipated something like 'she's ugly' or 'she's a bitch'. He realised that he probably wasn't even hiding the fact that he was listening intently.

"Please explain," Snape prompted, seemingly as confused as Draco.

"She wears the wrong type of clothing. It shows too much skin. Especially on top." The Professor shuddered, and continued. "She always says dirty things. I am not even sure she is over-age. She is clearly infected with something, when she arrived, she had sores all over her lips. Disgusting, truly vile," he finished contemptuously.

"I can see why you don't like her," Snape admitted, much to Draco's surprise. It must have been a cultural thing, Draco decided. At a pointed look from the Potion's Master, Draco resumed working, a faint flush colouring his cheeks.


	6. Chapter 6

Anxiously, Neville waited outside Professor Dharker's classroom. He wasn't sure what to expect from the lesson, some of the class said it was interesting while others—mainly Hermione—weren't at all pleased. The brunette girl had returned from her lesson fuming. She had complained for hours about the 'idiotic and pointless' activities. On the other hand, Ron had apparently enjoyed the lesson, and had been enthusiastic about completing his homework, which was reading a book about chess strategies. Neville had asked them both what they had done in the lesson, but Hermione was too angry to really say anything, and Ron was engrossed in his book. The only thing that Hermione divulged was that the Professor didn't speak much.

Colin and Alice were dressed similarly, wearing jogging bottoms and vest tops, though Alice sported a black hooded jacket. Neville was donned in clothing he reserved for gardening—the apple green flannel shirt was several sizes too big. He had been lucky to find Alice. She was a fourth year Gryffindor—like himself—and had an older brother who was in the Muggle army. Since Alice wanted to follow in his footsteps she had therefore been an ideal candidate.

Across the hallway, the Professor's door opened, and a tall man ducked out of the room. To Neville, everything about this person's persona screamed bodyguard, which was odd. The man placed a bag down in the corridor and grinned at the students; Neville fought back a squeak. His hair was long and shaggy—as black as the Professor's—but this man's skin was dark, and his body was thickened with hard muscle. Neville shivered as the man disappeared. The trio watched the now open door, waiting for their teacher to appear. Eventually, the Professor himself emerged, clutching a large mug of something citrus scented and steaming, Neville assumed it was tea.

"The door is not locked. Go straight inside when you arrive," he instructed them softly. Dharker picked up the bag and motioned for them to go into the classroom. Neville was almost surprised at the level of trust he displayed.

The classroom was set up to allow for physical activity—the desks were pushed up against the walls with the chairs neatly stacked atop them.

Dharker copied something onto the blackboard, and Neville read in interest: _Lesson 1; Dodging._

Curiously, he wondered how this was going to be taught. The Professor sipped his tea a few times before beginning.

"Today, you will be doing some dodging exercises. I will throw a ball at you and you will move out of the way," he explained.

To demonstrate, he took a bludger-sized ball from the bag and lightly tossed it at in Colin's direction. The ball connected with Colin's white vest, leaving a vivid cyan mark. Creevey passed the ball to Professor Dharker, who promptly threw it back again. Where the two marks overlapped was a different colour. Vaguely, Neville wondered how the Professor had achieved this, but he noticed a number of characters on the ball and concluded that it must be a form of magic. "The paint will not stain," Dharker assured them.

As the group leader, Neville went first and wasn't exactly relishing the idea of being used as a living target. The first ball struck without warning, hitting him squarely in the chest. He was relieved to discover the balls were soft, and found it was much easier to concentrate without the worry of pain.

Another two landed abruptly, one on his right bicep and the other on his left thigh. It appeared to be an entirely random pattern, and Neville began to wonder about Dharker's throwing abilities. The next missed him entirely—or so he thought—until it rebounded off the wall behind him and tapped him on the back of the neck. It was then that it occurred to Neville that maybe the contact points weren't as arbitrary as he had originally believed. Cautiously, he tried watching the Professor's hand as he aimed. Once he had devised his plan, he tried side-stepping an incoming projectile. A slight feeling of elation lifted him as he nearly avoided the missile. A few minutes later, when the supply of balls dwindled, the Professor stopped.

While the other two collected up the balls, Dharker counted the contact marks. Neville looked down at himself and saw a rainbow of splatters, it was tempting to leave them there too, as a testament to his hard work, and the multicoloured mess of hit marks looked quite good in his opinion. Dharker recorded the information in a little black book, quietly praising Neville as he did so.

It was Colin's turn next, and the Professor attacked with a completely new scheme. Colin was having much more success than Neville had, and Neville was quite glad that at least one of the three of them had some skill. He was more than a little surprised then, when Alice stepped up. She dodged most of the balls with relative ease and the ones that did hit were sneakily tossed at the same time as a more obvious ball. Amusingly, Alice caught several of the balls and hurled them back at the Professor with considerably more force than he was employing.

At the end of the volley of foam balls, from which Dharker emerged nearly as colourful Alice, Dharker smiled in delight.

"Excellent," he said ecstatically, "five points to Gryffindor."

All three of the students grinned, pleased that their teacher was quite lighthearted. Dharker picked up his mug of no doubt cold tea and frowned. He fished one of the balls out of the liquid.

"I was looking forward to that," he sighed and set the cup of aqua tea aside. Briefly, the students panicked, but Dharker just flicked the ball into the bag. "Oh well," he commented.

"Where did you learn to dodge like that," Neville enquired suddenly.

"I was in the dodgeball club at my old school," she replied as she neatened her short blonde hair.

"Either next week, or the week after, the two Tuesday groups will have a joint lesson," Dharker informed them, and then dismissed them.

* * *

Kaede's slim hand rested on Severus' shoulder; she needed to speak to him, but she was frightened. The last time she had approached the subject, he had not taken it very well. However, the need was pressing and she felt guilty that she hadn't mentioned it before. Gathering her courage, she spoke softly.

"Severus, may I talk to you?" At her words, Severus wrapped his arms around her waist, hoping to alleviate some of the distress in her voice.

"Of course you can Kaede," he answered reassuringly, running a hand through her silky brunette hair.

"Do you remember that chat we had about having children before you returned here?" Kaede asked delicately, silently pleading that he would be able to remember the conversation. Severus stiffened considerably, but continued stroking her hair.

"I do recall, shall I take a stab at what you want to tell me?" Severus tried to keep his voice under control, he didn't know if he was excited or scared. "Are you pregnant?" He queried softly.

"I don't know, maybe," she replied, just as quietly. "It's not that though," she added hastily.

"In that case, I suppose I have a twelve year old child, and you're worried I don't want kids." There was an edge to his voice, and he was sure Kaede could hear it. He refused to believe the other possibility. "If this is the problem, what is their name and why aren't they here?" He questioned lightly. Kaede felt an almost overwhelming sense of relief, she really had been worried that husband would take the news badly.

"His name is Shen, I didn't want to surprise you by suddenly showing up with your child, I felt it would be a little bit rude. He's been in hospital Severus, I got a letter from my brother Jei this morning. Please don't be angry."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? Despite your intentions, I feel more than a little annoyed, you've been here for nearly two weeks and while I am grateful of your presence and the calming effect it has on me, I feel as if I had a right to know sooner. What's more is he's in hospital? Why?" Severus demanded, almost regretting it as a hurt look crossed Kaede's features.

"I sent letters, I promise you, I sent you letters. As soon as I knew, I wrote to you! I tried the official service but they evidently didn't reach you. I couldn't risk my job by sending it unofficially. Even to me, it sounds like a poor reason, I'm sorry, but the military is all I've ever done. If I lost my placement, I wouldn't do any good in a different job. As for Shen, he had tonsillitis," Kaede explained, once more hoping that her husband would understand.

Severus squeezed her once and then let go, his movements held a barely concealed excitement and anxiety. He all but sprinted out of the room, and Kaede felt a little bit apprehensive, she wasn't sure where he was off to.

Severus wasn't sure if he was smiling or scowling, but whatever the expression on his face, students practically dove out of his way. Temporarily forgetting his manners, he burst into Dumbledore's office, startling the old man.

"Headmaster, I will be back in a few hours!" he exclaimed as he turned on his heel. Albus might've commented, if wasn't already jogging down the corridor from whence he came. Severus guessed the senile fool was chuckling and closing the door.

* * *

Cold winds rattled the ramshackle houses as Severus and Kaede made their way to Jei's home. A few soldiers greeted them as they neared the building. They waited for someone to open the door, excitement and fear bubbling in Severus' chest. He couldn't help but think he would be an awful father. The door swung open, revealing Jei's familiar features, and the two were let in.

They were led into the living room, where a slender boy was sat reading. Severus felt his heart pounding in his chest as he looked over who he assumed to be Shen. The boy looked up from his book, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of his parents together.

"Hello Shen," Severus greeted simply, a slightly giddy feeling overcoming him. The boy stood, and Severus noted that he was quite tall for his age, and flung his arms around Severus. Severus staggered, shocked by the sudden contact, but hugged his son back, feeling comforted by the fact the boy seemed to accept him. His eyes pricked, and he tugged Kaede into the embrace, burying his face in her hair.

* * *

**A/N hey everyone! hope you enjoyed the chapter :D**


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